


- 妓生 -

by Hipsterian



Category: Winner (Band)
Genre: Escorts AU, Love/Hate, M/M, One Shot, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:35:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26104300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hipsterian/pseuds/Hipsterian
Summary: Kisaeng.Korean noun: women from outcast or slave families who were trained to be courtesans, providing artistic entertainment and conversation to men of the upper class.Or Jinwoo is an escort and Minho can't believe his luck.
Relationships: Kim Jinwoo/Song Minho | Mino
Kudos: 18





	- 妓生 -

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone!
> 
> I know the theme of this one-shot is a little weird, but I hope you will enjoy it as much as I did writing this.  
> Honestly, I poured a lot of effort into this, so if you like it, please leave a comment, it will mean a lot to me.   
> As usual, English is not my native tongue, so expect lots of mistakes and non-sense. I'm apologising for them beforehand.
> 
> Thanks for your time reading this and I hope you can enjoy it!
> 
> All the love.

[ **妓生** ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kisaeng)

**Kisaeng**

"Ride me," Minho says when Jinwoo opens the door. 

He chokes on his own spite, struggling with his breathing. He isn’t expecting to find his client sitting on a chair, a kerchief around his face, blinding him, his hands falling on his sides, waiting, expectant, a smirk on his lips. 

"What?" he looks at him, surprised, awestruck. He is gorgeous, for sure, veiled under expensive clothes, the subtle perfume of spicy wood and bergamot swirling in the room, the lights of the chandelier are throwing shades on him, cutting his sharp profile of high-bones and eyebrows, a stark contrast with the gravity that he exudes, his magnetic aura that pulls Jinwoo in. Like a piece of art ready to be examined, Minho waits, only the thumbs of his heart beating, the rivers of blood running wild down his veins. 

He looks luxurious and lustful but this is not what they have agreed in. Jinwoo stares at him, at all the curbs of his perfect body and he gulps hard, pearls of sweat dangling from his skin. He blinks, slowly, once, twice, inhaling air that tastes like burning fire. Tied like tildes to the moon, his chest rises and lowers, breathing in harsh puffs, lungs suffocating with the displayed view laying in front of his eyes. 

He comes closer, reeled in by the force of the universe that comes from the man sitting, who smirks at him, welcoming his advances, every little step that brings him nearer to him, until he can breathe upon his bones, and Minho leers at him from beneath the cloth covering his vision, hands gripping his hips, pushing him, sitting him on his lap, straddling him atop his thighs. 

Jinwoo breathes ashes and the air feel stuffy, sultry, his mind spinning with the image of Minho under him, Minho's hands grazing his skin. With his palms on his ass, he pushes him closer, until his legs fall down the other end of the seat until their noses bump and he can feel all of Minho’s muscles below him tensing in anticipated delight, hot with flames of bare hanker and urgent craving. 

This is not right - but it feels so good, Minho pants sweetly, the sound of it so lecher, sending tickles down Jinwoo’s spine, his lips searching, fingers tapping on his nape, pulling him in for a rough, passionate kiss. Jinwoo allows it out of surprise – and this is not the first time someone has misunderstood him this way, has taken the wrong idea about his job as an escort. But never a client has been waiting for him with so much lust craved inside his bones, ravishing the idea of him, of owning his time to do with it as he pleases. 

Jinwoo feels the warmness that comes from Minho's crotch, how he thrusts it against his hips, grinding. He tastes fire on his tongue, the hardness that comes from Minho chasing him, making him startled, waking out of his thoughts. This is not going to happen.

He pushes Minho away and gets up.

Minho shed the handkerchief from his eyes to the ground and looks at him, ribaldry painting every angle of his pretty face. He seems more amused than surprised, he pats his thighs, inviting Jinwoo to come back, but he shakes his head, steps back, away, out of his reach. 

“Oh, do you have something else in mind, pretty thing? Because I wanted you to ride me so bad since the first time I saw you… But I’m flexible, I can agree with anything you suggest, handsome,” he pants, huffing, and his voice is sweltering, sending shivers again, inviting, lavishing. 

Jinwoo is already on the door when Minho finally sees it. 

“Where are you going? I paid enough to have the privilege to own you all night long!” he proclaims, frowning at Jinwoo’s actions – at how he is ready to depart, leaving him alone. It’s not a matter of money but pride, he can’t let him go.

“Here,” Jinwoo snorts, fiddling inside his pockets, “take it, your money,” and he tosses a fistful of bills that revolve in the air, falling at Minho’s feet. “Now you own nothing of me,” and, with a slam, he is out of Minho’s sight. 

He is left horny and wonky with the flavour of failure and misconception hanging in his mind. He is abandoned with a whirl of money and the texture of Jinwoo in his hands like a phantom on his fingertips – lukewarm, distant, pale, dream-like. He heaves, dejected, banging his head against his hands, hiding his embarrassment, his frustration, his needs that pulse through his veins still, scorching, running wild, a hustle of sensations blended with what could have happened, what he was wishing, waiting for, anticipating but will never be – since Jinwoo is out of his embrace once more, has never been his as much as he has been dying for. Nevertheless, it’s all his fault, like always. 

With a long sigh of frustration, Minho collects his handkerchief from the floor and ties it around his neck, elegant, fashioned. Flashes of old, distorted, memories come across, sailing through the waves of time, sinking into his head like a film he has rewind, feeling aged traces of Jinwoo lingering like butterflies under his eyes closed. They have met before, a long time ago – in a time that belongs to another life, endured by someone else, someone who wasn’t Minho (but he was the one suffering, falling). 

Jinwoo has only become more handsome than he already was. He has still the loveliest smile he has ever encounter and, remembering it, he thinks about him, about their moments shared, the time where he was the happiest – because he could observe Jinwoo, be close to him.

He was two years above him at school, so it was just natural that he never laid his eyes upon him, knew his name or that he ever existed, but Jinwoo was Minho’s reflect, the person he wanted to become, the steps he tried to follow. Back then he was clever and hard-working, always studying, a smile spread in his pretty face, eyes perpetually gleaming like a sunset. Jinwoo was so nice and caring, he contemplated his acts from afar, how he always greeted other students, how politely he bowed in front of their teachers; nobody had a bad word to say about him, he was always under the most favourable light, loved and claimed. And Minho felt in love even when nothing was shot his way: their paths never crossed – he was the lonely kid, the one who always walked home alone, the one who other children used to bully, abuse. He always ran with plasters on his face and, like that, is how Jinwoo first met with him – the day he was sent to the infirmary after another torment fallen on him like a storm. Jinwoo was the nurse helper and he was the first one to encourage Minho with kind words. After that Minho came there with a lighter heart, not minding about the cuts and bruises, not when Jinwoo would be putting a balsam to them, with slender fingers made to mend his heart. 

He never expected to meet Jinwoo, not as they did, not at a frivolous party accompanying Seungyoon. But, despite all the years apart, he felt it thundering in his chest, lightening the night sky with his sparks and charms and Jinwoo remained just the same: perfect, gracious, lovely and kind and, this moment, Minho found out, he could have him, he could pay for his time. 

He wanted to tell him so many things, talk about his feelings, rewind his memories with him but, after that firs re-encounter, he wanted to own him first, to let go of all those years piled up frustration, all the night wandering, wondering about Jinwoo. He will have other occasions to catch up – now he has the money and Jinwoo the time. 

But things haven’t turned up to be as he has planned and, looking into it, he is the one to blame, the one who got it flipped – and he is properly embarrassed and mortified that their encounter has ended in such a terrible way, that he has come into him like a sex-driven brain-sick (that his money was only fools-gold in the end). 

Jinwoo calls Seunghoon to let him know. He is furious – because this is not the first time happening despite promises from him to solve the issue, despite how he is advertised in Seunghoon’s website. He is an escort selling time in exchange for his company, not trading it for sex and wanton and lust. He has made it always clear and all his clients are aware of his profile.

Not Song Minho, obviously. 

“I’ll refund him,” but this is not what Jinwoo is concerned about.

“Seunghoon, who is him? How did he find us out?” he wonders, worriedly. He has a regular net of costumers asking for him, he usually hasn’t the time to get new ones, he is very solicited, all his slots covered with assisting to exhibitions, going to elegant dinners or film premiers. He takes his job seriously, to keep others company, keeps them entertained and interested and Jinwoo is one of the best escorts in Seunghoon’s agency. He is keen and sincere, the most handsome one, with a sweet personality that everybody appreciates and adores – and he is so natural and talented, he is always solicited, his hours are the highest-paid.

“He came recommended by Seungyoon,” he admits. “I thought he knew what you offer, I’m sorry Jinwoo. It won’t happen again,” he promises, ashamed, probably because this misunderstanding has cost him a lot – and Jinwoo has had to cancel another appointment with Choi Seunghyung; all for nothing. 

Seunghoon nods. 

“Please, I’m out of service for him,” he begs Seunghoon. He is aware that such a demand is petty, that this is a business and he shouldn’t be this picky – it’s his word after all, - but he still feels revolved whenever he recreates the situation in his head. 

Jinwoo has little expectations to meet Minho again so he let it go, sighing in relief. He knows that Seunghoon will assign him if the money is good – he has done that before, cancelled his plans for others that paid more, - but he has been so unkind and impolite – unapologetic to him, - that he is convinced that they won’t see each other ever again – and Jinwoo is good with that arrangement, with the idea of never working for Minho.

He is so very wrong because it hasn’t been a week that he finds out that Minho has asked for him, that he has booked him for the next day – and Seunghoon comes up with excuses and pleads and Jinwoo gives up just to stop hearing him begging.

“He will behave,” Seunghoon promises and Jinwoo shrugs: if Minho tries to reel him into another sexual intercourse, he will bring a lawsuit and so he tells Seunghoon, who quickly agrees.

The prospect of seeing Minho once more isn’t exciting at all, Jinwoo finds out. Despite his wealth and connections, Jinwoo doesn’t want to be related to Minho in any way or form: he is a despicable man, the sort he doesn’t work for – the type that is spoiled and demanding, used to get it all, get it in his way. 

Without his face half-covered, Song Minho looks slimly familiar, his figure like a shadow, tiptoeing at the edge of Jinwoo’s mind but he is unable to pinpoint where or how he has seen him, so he lets it drop, unimportant, but remains to bug him, ticklish, stirring his memory. He is handsome and polite when he is not trying to lust him: when he is thinking with his useful head. But Jinwoo doesn’t enjoy any of their time together, his sultry, lewd voice haunting him, still coming up in puffs of bad experiences. And he doesn’t even try to act nicely and kind, he is blatantly rude in hopes that Minho won’t want to repeat the meeting, tired of his refusals and rejections that speak loudly through actions and side remarks and insinuations. 

He has to annul two more dates with Choi Seunghyung due to annoying Song Minho. Jinwoo usually doesn’t have a strong opinion on new clients – it takes a while for him to open up, to be more casual and lay-back, - but he has one about Minho: he doesn’t take the bait.

“Maybe he is stupid,” Jinhwan voices up. He yawns, bored, waiting for Lee Chanhyunk and Lee Suhyun to show up. They are going to assist to Chanhyunk book release dinner party. Jinwoo is relaxed, tranquil, since he knows the siblings from long so work will be a piece of cake – keeping them company, chatting about literature with other guests, entertain them with witty conversation and skilful tactics.

“Perhaps,” he agrees, nodding, “I’ve been four times out with him and enjoyed nothing. Well, that’s not the truth, because he is quite a gentleman after our first encounter, that was a disaster I want to forget,” Jinwoo explains though Jinhwan is aware – because between them there aren’t secrets, they share information about clients and their whereabouts. “If Seunghoon cancels another meeting with one of my long time host because of him, I’ll go nuts,” he points out. As far as he knows, Seunghoon has changed his schedules as he pleased just to assure a free slot of his time for Minho, who must be paying for Jinwoo his weight in gold – otherwise, Seunghoon wouldn't bother to altered his agenda, Jinwoo’s compromises. Jinwoo has tried to come up with other plans – has busied himself with other appointments, but Seunghoon is as adamant about it as it is Minho; it has to be Jinwoo, it can’t be anyone else and Jinwoo has never met anyone as persistent as Minho. Usually, after his efforts to be unkind and appear bored and uninterested, people would have drop Jinwoo, would have picked another escort to spend time with, but not Minho, who insists in getting his way bribing Seunghoon with extra money.

At least today he can work with someone else – without Minho swirling around, controlling, patronizing.

They are waiting outside, suit up and a classical, elegant look on their faces – clean, smart, fine, just enough to blend in with the concurrence. Jinwoo smiles, fixing Jinhwan’s hair, brushing it back, pulling a blond strand behind his pointy ear. He looks perfect – they both do, - and, when Suhyun greets them, wearing an expensive, velvety, green dress with pearls splashed around the collar, she beams, grinning at them.

“Look at you! So handsome! You are going to steal my brother’s spotlight!” she jokes, hugging them. 

It’s always good to go to rammed events: it’s a good place to meet potential new clients, expand his networking net and update his public profile, people who might, once, need some paid company to assist to a party or to be a plus-one to a wedding – Jinwoo has done that, has been Kim Jisoo’s fake boyfriend to shut her demanding parents’ mouth for a while. He has met her family, gone to a New Years’ parties for four years consecutively and hang out with her friends, went clubbing with them (he has been his partner for years and nobody has ever suspected – Jinwoo is, after all, a professional, always taking care of every little detail). 

Jinhwan and Jinwoo split around and he enjoys the night, listening to Chanhyuk’s speech and asks him to sign his book as well with a cheeky smile. He poses for press pictures with his friends and compliments Chanhyuk’s talents, his previous book and enhance the fact that he is one of the best writers in South Korea. He is engrossed in conversation with one of the others attendee, delighted with the flow of her words when he sees him coming through the double-doors of the grand salon where the event is taking place. He politely dismissed his companion and rushes to thank his hosts, wanting nothing but go home – Minho’s sudden appearance has ruined his mood, has blown down his expectations, his hopes for a quiet night of enjoyment with friends. 

“Jinwoo?” he hears him calling, sure of his presence, but he ignores his plead and takes a taxi back home, messaging Jinhwan about how his plans have been smashed like a card castle by the wind. 

_~ It sucks. Have a safe trip home._ He texts him back. _~ If Minho asks about you, I’ll tell you are ill or something_.

And Jinwoo nods at it, believing that, perhaps tomorrow, he won’t find out about Song Minho – that he won’t ask him out again.

He wakes up to a stream of messages on his phone – all worries and concerns from Song Minho, who has managed to get his number somehow. Jinwoo sighs and tosses the phone to his bed, ruffling his hair in despair; there must be some way to get rid of him.

Seunghoon calls him to ask about his health and Jinwoo has to cough and sneeze to be trustful to his lie.

“But it’s nothing, I can make it to Eric Nam’s party,” he says, voice raw and hoarse. He has to be there, he can’t leave Eric hanging, not when he is the USA ambassador in Korea and he has to greet a prominent group of Americans visiting Seoul. 

As usual, he has been appointed to entertain them since Jinwoo is a great _pansori_ artist, with his silky, mellow tone and his perfect drumstick abilities. He can also perform with the _hyeongeumor_ and dance to the traditional Korean folk songs if demanded; if Eric asks for it – if his guests show interest in Korean arts, Jinwoo will perform everything he can for them, and it will be a great honour. 

He remembers how he first stumbled upon Eric when he landed at Incheon. He was assigned to be his guide, to introduce him to the Korean lifestyle and Jinwoo was the chosen one to lead him through the city, accompanying him to the most prominent monuments and museums, making sure that he has a taste of the country and that he was comfortable, enjoying the time together. With the course of a few days, though, they tag along and befriended – they hanged out for a drink and Jinwoo helped Eric with his Korean expressions, introduced him to other people, - and, now that Eric is an ambassador, he hires Jinwoo and others escorts whenever he needs to impress newcomers or host an important dinner. Jinwoo has to introduce them to Korean culture and explain briefly their traditional arts, demonstrating them through a performance when required, to ensure that they are getting a taste of his land, that they are well-treated and impressed with the visit. It’s his favourite type of job since it usually entails for him to play the traditional instruments and sing – and Jinwoo is devoted to the classical arts, loves to show them to others, to introduce his country through his voice and movements. 

He wears a _hanbok_ in hues of baby-blue as Eric has instructed him, convinced that there is no way for Song Minho to show up and ruin yet another day – and he disregards Minho’s messages and calls. 

The night goes on smoothly, he performs and everybody is entranced by his beautiful voice, by the tales of his folks. He sings _pansori a_ nd plays the _janggu_. When he is done and he is no longer required – when the men are reunited to drink whiskey and he can retire home, someone shakes his shoulder, tugging the silky sleeve of his elegant _hanbok_ that Eric Nam has gifted to him a year ago. 

“I see you are feeling better,” Minho says. He is wearing a suit and he hasn’t seen him among the crew – but when he performs he never focuses on the public but in doing as well as possible. 

“What are you doing here?” he asks, shocked.

“I was invited by the embassy since the visitors are interested in invest in my company,” he explains, a soft smile creeping his serious semblance. “You look lovely in _hanbok_ , I should have known,” he compliments Jinwoo but he brushes it off. He tries to come up with an excuse, but it is clear that he is in good condition – he has just sung for an hour without any complications, he can’t use it again. He steps back but Minho catches him by the arm, steadying him from stumbling. “Look, I owe you an apology. I was… I took you for something you are not. I’m sorry. And I know you have been avoiding me, hating me, and I understand. But...” he stops, looking for the words that will convey his feelings, that will express what he has lingering inside his chest, “I like your company, so I hope you can forgive me and just treat me equally as any of your other clients if it’s not much to ask for,” and Jinwoo is stunned with his sincerity, with the force of his will. 

“Nice to make you an acquittance, Song Minho, my name is Kim Jinwoo,” and he shakes his hand. Minho greets him back, sliding him his card.

It reads “ _Song Minho, CEO of YG Corporation_ ” which is very much impressive.

Jinwoo can start anew with Minho – as long as it doesn’t conflict with other meetings and schedules. He has gotten the apology he was looking for and he can rest assured that he won’t ever try to seduce him again – he hasn’t tried it since that firs, calamitous time. 

His next meeting is with one of his favourite guests, Choi Seunghyung. He is always interesting, with a pleasant conversation he shows him the best art exhibitions, talks about his pieces and Jinwoo gets lost in his explanations. Seunghyung is a renamed teacher at SNU so he brings Jinwoo along when he has conferences to do or when he has to submit awards. Or, like now, when he has time to kill and needs someone to chat up with. But spending time with Seunghyung is Jinwoo’s pleasure, discuss art and paintings with an eminence is always a good way to learn and improve and Seunghyung likes to teach him, illustrating him with new concepts or ideas so they are a perfect match together. 

He finishes in time for another schedule with Minho and Jinwoo really tries his best to be a great partner. He listens to him attentively and makes small talk easily, keeps the flow going with a glimmering, evergreen smile. 

Minho loves every second of the dinner he has arranged with Jinwoo. He has been so incredibly nice and kind, considerate even, and he gets flashes from a past long forgotten – he remembers his hands touching his cheeks, setting stitches on his chin, cleaning cuts with stinky iodine, calming bruises with a silly song he made up for Minho only, his voice like a sunrise, warming his core. Jinwoo is not only a gorgeous companion to dinner with, but he is also a great listener, a skilled and smooth tale-telling – he speaks carefully, always using the right words, saying what it is needed, what Minho needs to hear. He talks in a modulating manner, has a deep conversation. He is a great company and Minho is delighted to witnesses his change of mind, how he is now attentive to him, carefully listening to his voice, all previous misunderstand solved. 

Jinwoo stops avoiding him and, therefore, Minho is beguiled with another date the very next day. And the day after that. And Jinwoo lost track of how many days he has spent with Minho, going out for lunch and dinner and winter yields to spring and flowers bloom under the breeze’s touch. Minho is not annoying, not after he gets over his lascivious, eventual, glance. He is kind and nice, overall, generous and courteous, a gentleman and, meeting him turns into a pleasant experience watered with fine wine and engaging conversation.

He brings Jinwoo to dinner mostly, but Minho has a business trip coming next – ten hours clasped in an air-plane to reach Los Angeles, so he asks Jinwoo to come along, to make the journey go faster, smoother. 

He should decline – because he has other clients to be with, Jisoo needs him for a lunch with her parents and he has never failed her, - but a part of him is attracted to the idea of leaving, of enjoying a quiet day in a hotel with Minho – time off out of town, being spoiled by Minho’s generosity and charms. Because, under his always trailing glance and the soft insinuations, veiled under good intentions and manners, Minho is sweet and sincere and Jinwoo quite likes it – likes his charisma, his alluring personality that reveals slowly, between nips and bites and good banter.

So Jinwoo is torn and prickled. Jinhwan offers himself to go with Minho and Jinwoo laughs it off, dismissing his friend. 

“I know, he has a weird crush on you,” he says, patting Jinwoo’s shoulders with a grin on his petite, pretty face though he is smuggling.

“I have the odd sensation that I know him,” Jinwoo tells, from the depths of his heart. Minho has been dropping hints about a shared past, had said things that involved memories in Jinwoo – memories that he has outreached, that sings to him at night, as pale as a ghost of a past dancing with him inside his mind. But it’s impossible, he is aware; he wouldn’t forget such a person like Minho and, besides, it’s infeasible that he could grow up in his same neighbourhood, assist to the same school. Jinhwan agrees with him. 

“Why don’t you ask Jisoo to change the meeting?” he offers and it’s a good tentative. Jisoo likes him enough to do so – and he will grant her a free date if needed in exchange for four days in paradise. “Because it’s obvious I can pass as you,” he grins, sniggering. Jinhwan is astonishingly beautiful and would be a very loving boyfriend to Jisoo – he has acted as Jinwoo’s friend in some outings with Jisoo, so they are acquittance, - but everybody in her circle knows Jinwoo by now, a change would be noted – and that would leave Jisoo in a wary situation.

Jinwoo calls her and explains his position. At this point, after so many years, they are more like siblings, they know each other in and out, have shared many precious and delightful moments, so, in a blink, Jisoo kindly accepts and wishes him a save journey.

“You’ll have to tell me everything!” she smiles over the phone and Jinwoo quickly contacts Seunghoon to organize his schedules around his new appointment with Minho.

Minho calls it off the night before – his business partner in Los Angeles has had some emergency and can’t make it, so the whole trip is cancelled.

“I’m so sorry Jinwoo,” he says over the phone, apologetic, despite that it’s not his fault.

It’s not too bad, four paid off days to enjoy home, sounds pretty good to Jinwoo.

“No, it’s OK, just don’t mention it to Seunghoon,” he chuckles. He shouldn’t be blithesome about it – he enjoys working, - but he hasn’t had time to himself in a while and he itches to take the opportunity. But he can not, it’s not fair: Minho is willing to pay nevertheless and that would be a scam – he wouldn’t be able to sleep well at night because he is a righteous man. “I’ll go to your place, to make up for your payment,” he says, gently. Minho doesn’t talk him down and so he shows up there the next morning.

“Be careful, hyung, maybe he will try something on you again,” Jinhwan advises Jinwoo on his drive to Minho’s place – Jinhwan has a job nearby so he offered him a ride. Jinwoo shakes the idea off of his friend’s mind with a soft, reassuring smile.

“I explained to him what he can expect of our agreement. Only company, nothing else,” he points out. Jinhwan isn’t assured but lets him go with a worried pout and reminding him to text him if things go downfall. 

Minho is waiting for him already, including an assorted breakfast ready for them to dig in. As always, he is stoned by Jinwoo, who is so polite and kind-hearted and caring, who shines like a star, seeding silver over his miserable life. It has never been easy for Minho – he has earned ever Won he has now, has worked the hardest to build up his enterprise, has put blood and sweat and every inch of his energy. He has grown up from a barren floor, got nothing for free, but with perseverance and hopes, he stands, proud, as the CEO of YG, a designs company. 

He explains it to Jinwoo, who nods and claps and listens to him with his lips in a perpetual “O” shape, surprised by his talent, by his endurance and willpower to make his dreams come true. 

“If you ever need a model, Seunghoon is your man,” Jinwoo says, staring at pictures of Minho’s clothes being shown at _SIA_ and _Seoul Fashion Week_. Models wearing his pieces have topped “ _Elle_ ”, “ _High Cut_ ”, “ _Allure_ ”. His brand has a name on its own and it’s all fruit of Minho’s efforts. 

Jinwoo proves himself a cultivate, cult man, he has board knowledge about culture and art and fashion and he is interested in everything Minho has to say, in his opinions and his ideas and he is such a great person, Minho feels blessed – mortified as well, guilt eating him alive, a pool of wild desire building up under his guts, hardening his insides. But temptation is nothing when Jinwoo sits next to him, eating slowly, defiantly, his eyes glued to Minho as if in purpose, as if wanting to consume Minho in a bonfire with all the side-glance and smirks threatening Minho’s patience.

Jinwoo appears more interested in Minho than before, asking him questions, digging a bit on his past and Minho thinks it’s time to reveal it, the truth that has been pulsing inside his heart since he first saw him months ago – when he made a show out of himself.

“I knew you seemed familiar!” Jinwoo exclaims, joyful, a smile gleaming in his face, “but I couldn’t point it out. Minho, you grew so well, you become such a successful young man, talented and creative and passionate!” he compliments him, buttered with sincerity. Minho mirrors Jinwoo’s smile, all sweet and content to be recognised by the person he always wanted to be – by his childhood hero. 

Jinwoo has been crafted to perfection, God-like and divine detailed – and Minho is just a human who finds it hard to resist his charms, enamoured to the very core. But it’s hard to decipher if it’s genuine or just his job and Minho’s head is stuffed, sultry with imagery of Jinwoo and he needs to shake it off, cool down, he needs to come up with something to keep talking, to diffuse his mind, to prevent his thoughts to climb up his chest, to tell him the utmost truth – that he is in love to the core with him. 

“And, how did you become an escort?” he wonders and Jinwoo raises a brow, surprised. So far, nobody else has inquired him about his personal life, but, instead of finding it invasive, he thinks it’s adorable that someone wants to know about him. 

“My parents went bankrupted and I needed quick money,” he explains, “this was the easiest, legal way for me to get there.” 

“And did you ever have any problem with clients?” he continues, latched to his voice.

Jinwoo thinks for a moment, tapping with a finger his lower lip shaped like a heart-beat. 

“When I was a free-lance, yes. Most took me for something else and I got into some troubles, but now Seunghoon takes care of everything. He ensures that our clients know what we do,” he says, smiling, “though, sometimes, people misunderstood,” and there is a hint of humour, a bitter-sweet memory, and Jinwoo snickers at him tactfully. Minho wants the ground to open, dig his own grave right at this point but Jinwoo is so sweet and lovely, he just can’t go – he is bind to Jinwoo.

“I’m sorry, again. I was so insensitive back then I just… You are gorgeous. And I’ll never apologise enough times to make up for how I treated you, I’m deadly embarrassed about it, about my general behaviour that afternoon,” Minho looks so tender, coloured cheeks and voice filled with chagrin and Jinwoo dismisses it with a grin.

“No hard feelings, and I ought to apologise as well, for mistreating you. I should be impartial with all my clients,” and it’s Minho’s turn to smile. 

“I earned that, though,” he adds, a period on their discussion. “So you never prostituted? Don’t get me wrong, I’m just curious since you are the first escort I ever met” he delves into it tentatively, not wanting to be intruding, inconsiderate. 

Jinwoo shakes his head. 

“No, what we do is to sell company. We assist to parties and dinners, entertain our host’s guest. Sometimes we perform as well, for foreigners, Jinhwan and I have degrees in _Gugak,_ despite that Jinhwan is the best singing _Arirang,_ I rather prefer _pansori_ and _salpori,_ ” he explains, proudly, “I usually go to exhibitions opening and conferences, make sure that people are enjoying themselves, keeping them pleased with conversations. Like modern _kingsaeng,_ the courtesans from Joseon Dynasty,” he state, sympathetic, “I only kissed one girl, Jisoo,” he adds just before clasping his mouth, “I shouldn’t say that,” and Minho looks at him in surprise.

“Do you take a vow, too?” he asks, half-joking, half curious.

“You mean like therapists? That we can’t reveal our clients' whereabouts and stuff without a judicial writ? It’s not that, but discretion is a given in the profession,” he provides and Minho finds it very logical. “My boss would be disappointed if he heard that I’ve been talking about others costumers,” he sighs, a tat worried. 

“But I’m the one paying, therefore, I’m the boss. Besides, I won’t snitch on you,” he promises, a hand patting his thigh gently. “So, is this Jisoo your girlfriend?” and Minho doesn’t want to pry but needs to know – so his heart can be prepared to be broken, shattered.

“Girlfriend? This job doesn’t leave much free time to have one. No, she is just a client, a beloved one,” he points out with a grin. 

“So… Are you single? It’s hard to believe,” and Minho is right, Jinwoo is too good to be true, so sincere and affectionate, so diligent and patient, clever, funny, enjoyable. From head to toe, he is flawless, unmatched. 

“Indeed I am. Besides, not many people would want to date an escort,” and Minho wants to laugh – he would die to date Jinwoo, he doesn’t mind his job, that doesn’t make him any less brilliant and wonderful and perfect in his eyes. “Don’t tell others because it should be a secret but I’m Jisoo’s fake boyfriend,” and Minho wants to smash his face for not coming up with that same pretext – with this excuse to hold hands with Jinwoo; now it’s too late to change their arrangement, and he slides his hand out of Jinwoo’s skin to brush off his dark hair. 

Morning yields to afternoon and time fly when he is with Jinwoo, hours feel like minutes and he can’t get enough, he needs more of his presence, he needs him perpetually in his life but Jinwoo has to go – because he has one life on his own. 

Jinwoo comes again next day and Minho shows him around – he brings him to his company and explains him about his job, about planning and concepts and designs, he presents his sketches for a new collection and tells him to be his new inspiration (and Jinwoo models for Minho, who is busy drawing, sizing Jinwoo, relishing into the caress of his fingers on his hips, holding him in place, encircling him with the measuring tape. He takes notes and doodles his figure covers it with diverse fabrics samples. 

“I can add something new to my profile,” Jinwoo smirks, getting inside Minho’s fancy car. He drives him home and waits until he disappears inside the hall. Minho wishes for nothing more – to have Jinwoo working as his muse, wearing clothes sewed with him in mind. 

Jinwoo counts the hours until he will have to work again – and he realises how odd it is that Minho doesn’t feel like a burden, that it’s more a pleasure to be with him than a responsibility and, as much as Jinwoo enjoys working as an escort, it tastes different when he is with Minho; perhaps is because they know each other from long before and he recalls him as a little boy, getting treated his injuries and wounds, covering scratches and heart-broken pieces with aid-bands and ridiculous songs. 

Time flies when he is chatting with Minho – and he can tell him anything, he is always willing to lean his ear, to listen to him rambling, complaining about shifts and other clients and he finds it so calming, a sensation he only shared with Jinhwan before. And he finds that Minho is amusing and interesting, always looking for ways to make Jinwoo laugh, to make him feel content and happy even when that falls on Jinwoo’s side – when it’s Jinwoo’s job to make him elated with his presence. 

Their last shared day feels heavy but Minho bestows Jinwoo the chance to choose what he truly wants to do – and Jinwoo shivers feels like crying that Minho is so thoughtful, giving his time up for Jinwoo, allowing him freedom. Until now Jinwoo has always done what was expected, what the costumers arranged with him – dating, dinners, conferences, exhibitions… he was there because he was told so, and, even though he enjoyed them, it wasn’t something out of his volition: it was mere work.

Jinwoo can’t come up with anything – he is used to be led, not to lead and so he isn’t sure of what it would be appropriate; he doesn’t want Minho to be uncomfortable, and he doesn’t want for him to run away. 

In the end, they go to a coffee shop and stays there, chatting and having fun. It’s different from the usual set-up – it’s casual and Jinwoo feels more freedom, butting in with questions about Minho, remembering their shared childhood, how Jinwoo scared the kids bullying Minho, how he protected him from further harm and Minho thanks him from the pitch of his heart.

“It was nothing. I threatened them to tell the School Principal. They shit on their pants,” he cracks up, recalling the moment. “After that, I only got glimpses of you on the halls, between classes,” he says, proud. 

Minho pays for another afternoon with Jinwoo the very next day and Jinwoo is so willing to go, he is on their meeting place ten minutes before, gleaming. He is wearing expensive-looking clothes, a sporty T-shirt under a denim jacket and rolled-up slim jeans. He looks delicious with the sun caressing his forehead, head tilted and sunglasses shadowing his sparkling eyes. Minho treats him to desserts, goes to a new bakery around his office head-quarters and they eat cakes and sweets with coffee. It is lovely – the place is all vintage, with ceramic pots and cups and Jinwoo unfolds his knowledge, dazzling Minho with a speech about Korean artisans pottery makers. 

“I have a degree in History,” he explains to an amazed Minho, grinning, pleased. 

“And yet, you work as an escort...” Minho signals. Jinwoo nods. He has been judged before so he doesn’t mind it – he knows it is strange, odd.

“Thanks to that I paid off my parents’ debt,” he comments, proudly – there is nothing to be embarrassed about and he takes his job seriously, he is a professional after all. “I’m aware that most people find this repulsive, but it’s a job as any other and there is a lot of demand; we are always busy,” he snickers and Minho has to agree – he is, by far, the one requiring Jinwoo’s time the most. 

The afternoon goes by in a blink and Jinwoo doesn’t want to go – but he has obligations, Seunghyung is waiting to go to the cinema with him, to watch an indie film with very good reviews. He steals a few more minutes to be with Minho just to arrive ten minutes late than agreed.

He is ashamed but comes up with an excuse.

“I’m so sorry, I got stuck in the traffic jam,” luckily Seunghyung doesn’t mind – he holds his hand and drags him inside. 

It’s been a week and Jinwoo has been late to all of his assignments but Minho’s. He is considering asking Minho to change it for the last slot he has – at night, so he won’t run behind and affect others, but Seunghoon beats him to that.

“I’ve heard that you haven’t been professional lately,” he snickers, “that you have been giving free time to Minho,” and it sounds threatening despite the light tone that Seunghoon uses. “That’s not how things work here, Jinwoo, you know,” and he does – but can’t help wanting to stretch time with Minho. 

“It won’t happen again, sorry,” Jinwoo mumbles, sighing.

“Of course not.”

Jinwoo is sure that Seunghoon is behind his change of schedule. Minho’s trysts are nowhere to be found and he is bombarded with meetings with all of his clients. 

He goes out with Jisoo and meets her friends at her house – he needs to get there earlier to cook, - Eric Nam asks him to perform for American visitors twice in the same week and he assists to Chanhyuk’s best-selling award party to ensure that his sister Suhyun won’t fall asleep during his acceptance speech. 

Next week is equally chaotic, with not a single minute of freedom, all his days are filled with appointments and dates and he misses Minho – he misses him more than he thought could be possible. There is a stark contrast between missing clients that haven’t hired him in months and Minho; Jinwoo feels it in his chest and everything lost its colour, fading away without the prospect of meeting with Minho again. He wants to see him – he wants to be with him out of work, he is willing to give him his time, all of it, just a moment together, just another laughter shared, a glint of his smile. Without the thought of meeting Minho, he feels empty, dry, his will to work getting thin, his humour coiling, flicking, disperse.

Maybe he can make time for Minho on his day off but he has already plans – besides, he is off Monday and Tuesday and Minho must be working then so it will be hard to collide in between. 

Jinwoo heaves and lets the missing settle inside his core where it has rooted, loiters deep. He throws clothes in his handbag and texts goodbye to Jinhwan before driving back home. 

Even driving is boring without notices from Minho and he still has to face three more hours on the road before reaching Mokpo. He checks his phone but it’s blank – Minho hasn’t contacted him and Jinwoo is concerned that he has gotten sick of him, that he, maybe, has gone too far, that he has done something wrong and Minho won’t want to see him again. But then, like a flash, he remembers that Minho has his working phone number, not his private one – that Minho has gotten it after bribing Jinhwan and he has said sorry enough times to be forgiven long ago for that. Of course, he is not carrying his working phone and he hasn’t checked it in a while – no need, he has his schedules noted in his agenda and clients usually don’t contact him but Seunghoon. Minho will have to wait until next week if nothing changes – if Seunghoon continues to avoid Minho in order to punish Jinwoo for disregard and neglect his others duties.

It’s all his fault anyway and guilt piles up inside his core, blending with longing and craving and Minho’s essence dwindling in his head – like wood and bergamot, a reassuring, manly perfume he has gotten accustomed to, has associated with home, a place where he wants to linger, stay, cuddling, snuggling together, his chest on his back, hands twinned and the pit-pat from the rain outside. 

Jinwoo is only half enjoying his family, though he tries to ignore the palpitations of his heart that beats under the shape of Minho’s name, at the same pace as he dreams of him, thinking about all the things they never did. He puts a smile on his face and goes to get ice-cream with his little nephews that hold onto his legs. He spoils them as usual, getting them whatever they want – after all his visits are scattered, he needs to compensate for his absence somehow. He buys presents for his mother and sisters and, jumping on the road with two little kids dangling from his arms, he walks home just to find a strange car parked. His inkling acts before his mind can and he is running, his nephews hardly catching up with his strides. It can’t be – but he wants it to be. 

“Minho?” he asks with the door barely opened. He hears him laughing before seeing him and he breathes out, all the weigh inside his chest released with just one, precious sound. “What are you doing here?” and he gets in, kicking out his shoes. 

Jinwoo looks incredible even with a shagged T-shirt and old, baggy shorts – despite that Minho is used to him wearing expensive clothes, fitted, elegant, brand-new. He smiles at him, welcomes him in.

“I can’t believe you are the same Jinwoo,” he comments, goofy. Jinwoo cracks up: it’s such a contrast, it’s not a wonder Minho is awestruck staring at him, at his grim attire that has seen better days.

“But it’s comfortable,” he pouts, “it’s my stay inside outfit,” he explains, a bit grumpy. If it were for Jinwoo, he would wear sweaters all day, but due to his job, he needs to look neat and elegant, always handsome. It’s Seunghoon who provides him clothes – he owes a modelling agency, it’s easy for him to get them brand items to dress up for dates. “I can ask Seunghoon for clothes if you want,” and Minho raises a brow, looking at him in shock.

“Shouldn’t I be saying so?” and Jinwoo cracks up, clapping at Minho’s remark.

“Very true.”

Minho stays over for lunch and Jinwoo’s mother is delighted to have him – she remembers when he was a kid, stumbling around to catch a glimpse of Jinwoo, stealthy following him. 

“I’m sorry I cheated on you,” he jokes and Jinwoo frowns, lost in Minho’s words – and he has never been as adorable before. “I met another escort. I had to because Seunghoon said it was impossible to be assigned to you. But Jinhwan told me where to find you, so I came. And here I am now,” and his smile is blinding and Jinwoo wants to brush it with his lips, have a taste of him, lick it if it will be as warm as it appears to be. 

“I’ve been very busy, indeed. I’m sorry I couldn’t make time for you,” he mumbles, apologetic.

“It’s not your fault. I’m also sorry to abuse your time out with your family, but I missed you. A lot,” he explains and it lights up Jinwoo’s heart. Minho isn’t angry at him, he wanted to meet with him, has been missing him just the same.

“I’m glad to see you. I missed you, too,” he confirms, sitting closer to Minho than needed – the kids swirling around, playing with their new toys, their cheerful yells filling the room and opaquing the sound of Jinwoo’s thought. 

“Can I drive you back to Seoul?” Minho wonders, “I’ll pay you if that’s a problem,” and Jinwoo wants to smash him, punch the dirty smirk out of his face. 

“I’m not working so there is nothing to pay for,” he says, firmly. Minho smile spread, wider now, consuming all his expression, taking all his semblance. He looks gorgeous. 

“Does that mean that I won’t have to pay to see you? That you want to see me out of work, too?” and there is a hint of expectation, of something else that Jinwoo can’t pinpoint but that he feels as well. He nods in answer. He gives Minho his private number.

“You can call any time, free of charges,” he smirks, saving it on his phone and Minho can’t believe his luck, how fortunate he is to be this close to Jinwoo – to be so near to have him for good, to tell him all he has always wanted to say (that he is in love with Jinwoo). 

They stay for dinner and play with the kids and it feels so normal as if Minho has always been part of his family: as if he has always been one of them – and Jinwoo doesn’t mind introducing him as something more than just a friend. 

“We have a problem,” Minho says, pointing at the cars parked. 

“You drive, I’ll leave mine here. Seunghoon can pay a cab for the next months and I’ll have an excuse to come back, to collect it,” Jinwoo shrugs. He hugs his parents and kisses them good-bye, promises them to visit more often.

Three hours go by in a second, wasted in catching up with their whereabouts and daily routines. Minho has a new collection brewing but has taken a day off just to visit Jinwoo – with swells Jinwoo’s heart with something flavoured like affection and care. 

“Because I missed you,” he states again, highlighting it. Jinwoo is flustered, his cheeks enraptured in red. “And, I was wondering if I could see you again, soon?” he asks, once they reach Seoul, the car stopped in Minho’s parking lot. He unfastens his belt and comes closer to Jinwoo, pinning him against the back-seat. Jinwoo’s eyes implode with stars and universes and Minho wants to drown in them, get lost counting all the sparkles lingering. 

“I think Seunghoon won’t allow that,” Jinwoo sighs, “unless you stop asking for meetings and ask me out,” and the sensation of Minho’s lips covering him is soft and sweet, a kiss that tastes like peaches and strawberries and Jinwoo gasps for air but keeps his lips still, not ready to let go of Minho – not ready to break apart, to step out of this beautiful revelry.

“Does this mean that you want to date me?” 

“Not work-related, yes,” Jinwoo pants, chasing after Minho’s mouth, capturing it in another kiss. 

Minho doesn’t mind waiting for Jinwoo to finish with all his appointments. He isn’t worried that he is seeing other men and women – that he pretends to be someone’s else boyfriend, - because, at the end of the day, he comes back to his loving arms, peppering him with soft kisses, entangling himself around him, talking until small hours of the night about nothing and everything. And it isn’t a problem, not really, when Jinwoo moves in with him, many months later. Jinhwan comes over to collect Jinwoo for work and stays for breakfast and he gets along with Minho – he likes that he makes Jinwoo happy, bathing him with love.

Now that Minho has Jinwoo encircled in his arms, dragging kisses all over his neck, hands grabbing his hips, sweat falling between parted moans, he feels like he has it all.

“Ride me, love,” he says, Jinwoo straddled on his lap, chuckling.

“I just had a terrible flashback,” he shakes between Minho's hands, crawls on top of him, his fingers tapping gently on his skin. 

"It's been more than a year, Jinwoo," Minho pouts, begs for, "please...", Jinwoo kisses the mole that stands alone in his nose like a spot of dirt. He brushes it with his a puff of hot air, licks it with cold tongue and brave heart. Minho grumbles beneath him, fondling his legs, pushing him even closer to his crotch, feeling the warmth coming from under his trembling jeans. 

"But I have to work tomorrow, unlike you, I have a morning shift," he complains, still giggling. 

"With who?" he wonders, a hint of annoyance covering his voice. Jinwoo latches to him, encircling his frame with legs and hands, colliding into him like stars burning in the sky. 

"With you, silly boy. Now, shush, tomorrow I'll be all yours."


End file.
